Return to Hogwarts
by livestar
Summary: Just because You-Know-Who is dead,you should not stop locking your doors at night. The Potters and Weasleys have grown up,and their children are ready to go to Hogwarts.Plenty of trouble awaits adults and kids alike,and their adventures are far from over
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here's a quick description of what's going on in the story. **

**Summary: This is a story that follows the events in DH -- yes, the hated epilogue included -- with only slight modifications to the timeline. It will focus on the Potters and Weasleys, and what their families are doing now that the war is over and the kids are old enough to attend Hogwarts. Clearly, no He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does not mean no trouble out there for adults and students alike! **

**Genre/Setting: Most of the story will be happening at Hogwarts, so if you miss those good school days, and want to see what the mischief the new generation of Potters and Weasleys create, this is the story for you. It will mostly be adventure, with some humour and drama sprinkled throughout.  
**

**Characters: I try to avoid inserting original characters into someone else's universe, so with one exception, all the main characters will be JKR's, not mine. All the old faces will be around, some of them in the same roles, some of them having changed over time. The characters I picked for the descriptions are Harry and Albus (his son) but it could as easily have been any one of Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione, and any other of their kids. The message is that the story follows their families, and so, everyone's included.  
**

**Disclaimer: Finally, I do not own the book, any of the characters or anything related to the Potter universe, except for the plot to this story -- and given that there are 500,000+ fan stories out there, I'm not even sure I came up with that.**

**Chapter 1: Another Owl**** Morning**

Funny how everything in life comes around, he thought.

He looked at the yellowish piece of parchment in his hand, reading each word three times over, just to make sure there was no mistake.

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

His fingers gripped the letter a little too tight, and it tore a little around the edges.

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

He looked at the envelope, and surely enough, there was the other piece of parchment, with a list long enough to spell a lot of extra shifts for his near future. Cauldrons, robes, scales, he almost chuckled at how unshocked he was—most people would have found the Hogwarts "equipment" eccentric, to say the least. Two decades before, he would have gaped at the letter like a fish out of water. Well, that was before a giant of a man had broken down the door and given him quite the undeniable proof of the existence of magic.

_Term begins on 1 September. _

Again, no surprises there. He remembered a few September firsts in his youth, when they had all driven down to London's King's Cross…well, now it would be his turn to drive his son down there.

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress_

The letter finished, he looked at the supplies list again. The wand—ah, the wand. He remembered the first time he had seen _that_ up close and personal. And to think his son would now have one of his own. It was staggering. And exhilarating. And a bit scary, if he was going to be honest about it.

But most of all, it was completely, utterly, undeniably unexpected.

He raised his eyes to his wife.

"Petal, uhm…I think we should…talk?"

She chewed on her lower lip, as she often did when she was nervous. Dudley spasmodically clenched and unclenched his fists, as he did when he was nervous. He opened his mouth to speak of his long-past childhood and a little scrawny boy that used to live in the cupboard under the stairs, but his wife got to speak first:

"Well…remember how I told you my family was a tad…eccentric?" She swallowed hard, fixing the immaculate kitchen floor with a guilty stare. "I might have understated things a bit."

"I see."

All in all, Dudley Dursley thought he was taking it quite well.

* * *

"So you see, after the war, I didn't really feel…wanted…in the wizarding world any longer," Pansy Dursley—nee Parkinson—explained to her surprisingly calm husband, currently seated across from her on their living room sofa. "Dad had lost his job, anyway, after the Malfoys lost favour with the Minister. Half my friends' parents were in Azkaban. And—eh, well let's just say I wasn't really popular among the other wizards and witches my age."

She scrunched up her nose in that expression of amused disgust he found so funny about her.

"I _had_ kind of suggested we turn their hero over to the Dark Lord, you see, so I can't say their dislike was, eh, _completely_ unfounded."

Dudley felt a headache coming on, but felt he was entitled to it. He had woken up that morning, a proud husband and father, ready to go to work, and now, a couple of hours later, his entire life had been turned upside-down, _again_. And it had all stared with—what else—an owl and a bloody letter from that…place!

"So I didn't go back to Hogwarts to finish my seventh year—a lot of people didn't, actually. Even if the war was over, there was still the memory of the battle. Me, I just didn't feel like going back to a place where everyone would see me as 'the Girl Who Suggested We Surrender The Boy-Who-Lived'." She scoffed with dark humour. "You should've heard what some of those impertinent Gryffindors yelled at me as we were evacuating. That little Creevey brat even jinxed me—took me ages to get rid of the boils, I tell you."

As Dudley just stared at her, Pansy realized she might have gotten a bit carried away. After all, he had no idea whatsoever about Hogwarts, and the war, and the Boy-Who-Lived. One of the reasons she'd found his presence so refreshing in the first place, all those years ago.

"Anyway. So…long story short…Magic exists. I used to be a witch. Our son is a wizard. And…I got you some aspirin, just in case."

She reached him a small plate with a glass of water, and he spotted two white pills resting on it. He had swallowed them dry before he even knew what he was doing. He took a big swig of the water anyway, just to buy himself some more time, in the hope that the wheels spinning wildly in his head would not, in fact, explode out his ears.

"Uh, darling? You look a little green. Maybe you should lie down for a minute?" Pansy looked at him with a mix of concern and guilt, though some of her usual matter-of-fact flippancy still managed to seep in. "Look, I know this is a lot for you to take in all of a sudden—but, but it doesn't have to change anything! I mean, the letter doesn't mean that—we don't have to send Evan—I mean of course, it _is_ what he is and now the world's all peaceful and whatnot—but I swear, I'm not going to do anything about it if you don't want to—and…"

She stopped to take a breath, realizing for the first time she had been so preoccupied with her husband finding out her secret, that she had given no thought to what her son's Hogwarts letter meant to _her_. Pansy wasn't sure she was ready to dip her toes into the whirlpool of the Wizarding World again. In fact, she'd been off the radar for so long, she wasn't even sure she was _allowed_ to come back. Maybe they had some rules about errant witches. Maybe she was stuck living a Muggle's life for ever—which was fine with her, since it was what she'd chosen more than fifteen years before…or was it?

"This isn't exactly easy on me, either."

She rubbed her hands against her flushed cheeks. A loud creaking noise made her look up, and she saw her husband clumsily extract himself from the suffering couch and walk towards her.

"Uh, petal…" he started, for the first time in many years looking like that adorably podgy reformed bully she'd turned her nose at when she'd first met him. "So…I was thinking…if you don't have anything against it…maybe Evan could go to that…place."

Pansy's eyes widened. Now _there_ was a slap in her pure-blood face. A Muggle no less, willing to accept the wizarding world in a heartbeat!

"Oh, sweetheart!" She squealed with pleasure at her adorable husband, so understanding, so flexible, so loving, so open-minded…

As she showered him with all those endearments, Dudley's mind flew back to his parents' house and a certain raven-haired boy with oversized shirts and scratched glasses. His wife wasn't the only one who hadn't been completely honest about her past—although, to be sure, her omission was the more momentous of the two. In fact, he mused, enjoying the sensation of her arms wrapped around his bulky frame, the fact that Harry Potter was his cousin had nothing to do with the current situation. So he might as well not mention it at all. Besides, there was a lot of fre—_wizards_ out there. Pansy had probably never even heard of him.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall slunk inconspicuously out the kitchen door, grateful the Dursleys felt safe enough in their neighbourhood to never lock it. Rounding the corner of the house, she stopped for a second in her tracks, as she noticed a short, chubby-looking boy skip merrily down the front alley. He seemed to spot her about the same time she saw him.

"Here, kitty!" he called, in a surprisingly high, childish voice. "Are you lost? You look too posh to be a stray. Here, kitty, come here!"

McGonagall simply stared at him, unmoving. Since she had definitively assumed leadership of Hogwarts after the war, she had slowly begun to understand exactly why Dumbledore seemed to always know everything. The Hogwarts records were nothing short of amazing, and the correspondence that the Headmaster received daily had made her cancel her subscription to the "Daily Prophet." In short, being the Headmistress of Hogwarts had come with a flood of information that McGonagall had taken a while to learn how to handle.

The fact that Mathias Evan, born to Dudley Dursley and Pansy Dursley (nee Parkinson), was a wizard, had been dropped in her lap eleven years before. His name had appeared in the Hogwarts records of prospective students, a long list that updated itself the moment that a new magical baby was born anywhere in the country. McGonagall had been enjoying her morning tea in her office when she had spotted the name, and the surname had caused her to almost choke on the hot liquid. She had then proceeded to laugh herself to tears, elegantly, of course, as befitted a Headmistress.

"You're a funny cat, did you know that?" Evan (who had insisted, ever since he was two and able to properly stomp his foot, to be called by his middle name rather than his first) told her, coming even closer. "Come on, I'm sure we can find some milk for you somewhere. Are you one of Mrs. Figg's?"

Arabella had had to leave her home around the same time that the Dursley's had, more than fifteen years previously, at the end of July. For months afterwards, she had lived with various members of the Order—the end of the war had caught her in Molly's Aunt Muriel's house, where she had lived for another year or so afterwards. When Muriel had contracted dragon-pox, however, Arabella had taken Mr. Tibbles and his clan and moved to rent a room at the "Hog's Head", where she and her cats had caused Aberforth's growing beard to whiten prematurely.

When McGonagall had spotted the Dursley's son on the Hogwarts Records, she had asked Arabella to pull one of her old tricks, and keep an eye on the family, to see just how the boy's future would shape up. Since then, Mrs. Figg had been the Dursley's zany old neighbour all over again, and she had never had anything out of the ordinary to report. As far as she knew, the Dursleys were a perfectly normal family, and not so much as a wand-tip had ever been spotted in their home.

"Evan, is that you sweetheart?" His mother's head poked out the window. She looked rather flushed. "Thought I heard your voice. Come inside, dear. Your father and I have some…news. And you've got a letter…"

"Can I get some milk for the cat first?" he asked, nodding to where he had seen the tabby. But it was gone, and he shrugged. "Nevermind. She must've gone back to Mrs. Figg's."

Safely hidden by a hydrangea shrub, McGonagall allowed herself a very cat-like stretch and a yawn. She had missed those little spying incursions. She had long stopped comparing herself to the former Headmaster, but she knew Albus would have been proud of her odd curiosity in the Dursley boy. And he would be laughing his crescent-shaped glasses off at the irony of it all.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Again, this story will not focus on Dudley's magical offspring -- it will be a Hogwarts story, meaning the whole next generation of wizards will be making an appearance, and the focus will be Harry's and Ron's families! I hope you enjoy the ride. Feedback is much appreciated and needed, as this is my first HP story and I have no idea how i'm doing.  
**


	2. The Four Hogwarts Letters

**The Four Hogwarts Letters**

"So, there you go, sweetheart. That's the story."

Evan looked at the piece of parchment in his hand, reading "Dear Mr. Dursley", green on cream and plain as daylight. The living room suddenly seemed a lot smaller.

"It's…fine…if you're scared, or anything," his Dad said in a gruff voice. "This whole …thing…does sound like a shifty business—"

"Dudley!"

"—but your mother and I will make sure you're safe. And I'll personally pummel anyone who tries to, you know, laugh at you or call you a freak or anything—_ow_!"

Pansy had elbowed him hard in the ribs, and Dudley had cried more out of obligation than any real pain, since her bony elbow hadn't really made a lot of impact.

"It's okay, dear," she said soothingly to her son, who still stood frozen in the middle of the room, clutching the letter, "no one's going to be calling you anything. If you do choose to go to Hogwarts, I'm sure you'll do very well and learn a great deal and make a great name for yourself. But if you don't…well, that's fine too—"

"—more than fine, we really don't mind if you don't want to go! There's always Smeltings—"

"—or _other_ places, where they don't have canes as required equipment…" Pansy added with a glare to her husband.

"…or other places, where they don't have, eh, w-wands and, and bloody owls and flying cars and stuff…"

Evan watched his parent's verbal sparring with a hint of amusement, but he couldn't really focus on what they were saying. The emerald-green words still ran around in his head. _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Wizardry. Wizard…_

"I'm not scared!" he suddenly heard himself saying, and his parents' bickering died down. "I'm not scared! This is amazingly cool! I want to go! Can I go, Mum, Dad, _please_?"

Dudley let out a strangled noise, somewhere between an assent and a groan. Pansy looked a little pasty herself, but she clapped her hands together with finality and pulled her son in an awkward hug.

"Well, I guess that's it then, dear! Congratulations… you're going to Hogwarts."

* * *

"I'm going to Hogwarts!"

He jumped off his chair and landed with a loud _thud_ on the freshly cleaned wooden floor, his feet slipping just an inch before he regained balance. Immediately, he began moving about in small circles, waving his arms in a mock victory dance.

"I'm going to Hog_warts_—I'm going to Hog_warts_—I'm going to-"

"James Sirius Potter, if you don't stop that abominable singing this _instant_, I'm going to hex your lips together!"

He mouthed the tune a couple more times, before his mother's half-amused glare put an end to it. Of course, there was no ending the chorus of plaintive wails that rose, as if on cue, from the chairs next to his.

"Muuuuum," two young voices yowled in unison. "Why can't _I_ go?"

James had the grace to look chagrined, but only for a second. He immediately returned to his Hogwarts letter, going over it for what must have been the twelfth time in the last ten minutes.

"Look Mum! It says I can bring a pet—can you and Dad finally get me an owl now? And that new _Celerita_ broom-line looks amazing, I heard they can go from zero to—"

"You're not allowed to bring a broom in your first year," an exasperated Ginny Potter—formerly known as Weasley—reminded her excited son. "And I better not hear of any rule-breaking."

"Well, maybe _a little_ rule-breaking, just to honour family tradi—," Harry started to say, then met his wife's murderous glare. "No rule-breaking," he quickly corrected, but winked at James when Ginny looked away. He then got up from his seat at the kitchen table to poke his head in the living room and check the fireplace once more.

"You sure this thing's working?" He asked Ginny. "I would've expected Ron to Floo here ages ago with Rosie's own big news."

His wife just shrugged, buttering a slice of bread for their youngest daughter.

"Here you go, sweetheart. Now stop that pouting, you'll get to go to Hogwarts, too, very soon." Stroking Lily's hair, she turned to Harry to answer: "Knowing my brother, he wouldn't need the Floo to let us know—we could hear his howls of joy from here to Greenland!" She considered for a moment the reason for Ron's conspicuous absence. "Maybe their owl was late."

For the first time, the excitement in James's expression seemed to genuinely lessen. He raised his eyes from the yellowing parchment to give his mother a worried glance.

"You don't think Rosie didn't get accepted, do you?"

Ginny snorted with amusement, and Harry actually let out a bark of laughter.

"Hermione Granger's daughter, not get accepted at Hogwarts? That'll be the day." He noticed his son's panicked expression, and shook his head reassuringly. "Trust me, James, she got in, alright. In fact, given her heritage, she's probably top of your class already…and you haven't even gotten there yet."

"Rosie? A Squib?" Ginny was still giggling at her son's idea. "May I remind you of the day she turned your broom into a pink pony when you wouldn't stop the Quidditch talk?"

James reddened to the top of his ears. The memory of him, sitting baffled on top of the pink, fluffy equine while the rest of his family roared with laughter still made him want to crawl under the nearest table.

"She said she didn't mean to," he muttered, while his siblings sniggered behind their tea cups.

"Well, of course she didn't mean to," Ginny said, "we've all had our good share of accidental magic—but it was still a pretty impressive feat. So don't worry, I'm sure Rose got her letter and will be going to Hogwarts with you, come September."

"Yea, and maybe once she takes classes, she'll learn how to turn _you_ into a pink pony," Albus commented with a huge grin.

"Can she turn him into a pygmypuff?" Lily asked with genuine interest. "Mummy, if my pygmypuff is James, am I still too young to have a pet?"

"Hey, cut that out," James bristled.

"If Rosie makes James a 'puff, can I rename him Penny?"

It was too much for Albus, who sputtered out his tea and slid lower in his chair, racked by convulsive laughter. Harry, too, was grinning widely, and even Ginny's shoulders shook with silent mirth at the sight of her daughter's enthusiastic expression. The only one unappreciative of all the humour was James.

"I'm _not_ going to turn into a pygmypuff," he growled, taking an annoyed bite of toast.

* * *

The Weasleys' place currently resembled the backroom of a very crammed library, and twenty-five percent of the household was unhappy with that status quo. Forty percent, if they counted Crookshanks.

Granted, the atmosphere was all but shimmering with excitement (in fact, there were some vaguely glittering particles flitting in the air, but Ron suspected they were some sort of pixie dust from one of Hermione's old books.)

"Ah, where _is_ it?" His wife rummaged even deeper in her old backpack, digging up three more volumes and slamming them on the table. "I _know_ this is where I left it."

"Mummy, can we look, too?"

Sitting next to her on the floor, Rose and Hugo watched their mother delve elbow-deep into the tattered bag once more. Rose's fingers were still tightly wrapped around the cream-coloured letter that had arrived through owl-post for her that morning.

"Please, Mummy, we want to see inside!"

Ron watched from a safe distance, plopped on the sofa and flanked on both sides by two large stacks of books. He idly read the titles on some: _Arythmancy for Amateurs_. _A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions. Numerology and Grammatica_. Ron groaned audibly.

"'Mione, we can just order another copy!" he suggested exasperatedly. "You don't have to turn our house into the next Hogwarts library…"

"But I know it's in here somewhere!" Hermione protested, red-faced from the concentration and frustration of not finding what she was looking for. "I remember very precisely, I shrank it and put it in this backpack and—_aha_!"

Her victorious shout caused Ron to jump, which in turn caused one of the stacks of books to topple onto him. Hermione, on the other hand, bright-eyed and satisfied, pulled out a thick book from the ragged bag.

"There! It's _Hogwarts: A History_, right where I said it would be!" She turned to Rose and gave her daughter a loving look, placing the large volume in her hands. "Here you go, sweetheart, like I promised, to mark the day you got your Hogwarts letter."

Rose squealed with pleasure, gave her mother a quick hug and ran off to her room to explore the old book. Hugo was right on her heels, and their footsteps resounded up the stairs, as they raced to Rose's room bickering loudly about who got to see what Hogwarts was all about first. Hermione listened to the squabble with a small smile on her face. Then she turned to her husband.

"I almost can't believe Rose is already going to Hogwarts…" She stroked the old knapsack nostalgically. "She'll love it so much. I'm so glad I found _Hogwarts: A History_ to give it to her. Don't you think it's a good way to get her to learn about the school before she gets there?"

Ron had just managed to extricate himself from beneath the _Rune Dictionary_ and _Moste Potente Potions._

"It's a great way, 'Mione," he sighed, shaking his head at his wife. "Now can you please put all these—" he nodded to the dozens of books sprawled all over their living room, "—back in the bag? I think I miss seeing our floors."

* * *

Later that day, a second letter arrived at the Dursleys', delivered, as per usual, by a tawny Hogwarts owl. As Dudley watched the bird drop off its errand on the window sill, he grimaced with displeasure—he still remembered vividly how one day, many years before, a whole pack of them had besieged his home on Privet Drive.

"Y-you open that," he asked his wife in a falsely casual tone, nodding to the envelope resting by the window.

Pansy sighed as she picked it up. She could tell her husband was none too pleased with the news of her magical origins. She felt a little confused, herself: she had left the magical world behind so long ago, but now it had found her again and was dragging her back in with the force of a whirlpool. And much to her surprise, Pansy found that the ways of the Wizarding World came as naturally to her now as they had before she had taken off, more than fifteen years before.

"It's for us," she informed her husband, skimming the new letter. "More information on the school's different committees and boards…asking us to join various—_what_?" She gave the piece of parchment an incredulous look, which prompted a reluctantly curious Dudley to raise his eyebrows.

"They're asking me to join the Alumni Society…encouraging donations…no surprises there," she added in a lower, mocking tone, "but hear this: _Mr. Dursley, we consider you would be particularly well-suited as a member of the Hogwarts Muggle Relations Committee, and encourage you to apply for a position by returning the attached form by July 31__st__._" Pansy shook her head in wonder, though there was an undertone of amusement to her voice.

"Muggle Relations Committee? _That_ wasn't there when I finished Hogwarts, that's for sure. I still remember the Carrows' Muggle Studies lessons" she scoffed with dark humour. "Heh. Hogwart's gone a long way from that, hasn't it?"

She looked up at him, almost expecting him to return the humour, but Dudley was once again giving her the fish-out-of-water expression he seemed to have mastered since the arrival of the first letter earlier in the morning. With another sigh, Pansy folded the piece of parchment and put it on a corner of the kitchen table.

"Sorry, Dudley, I keep forgetting you're ignorant of all this. Well, what they mean by Muggle Relations Committee—or I should begin by explaining what they mean by Muggle…"

"I know what Muggles are," he muttered, sounding more than a little defensive. "They're normal people…I mean, people without, without magic…"

His wife was slightly taken aback by his knowledge. Then again, maybe it wasn't all that hard to figure out what the letter, and the Wizarding World, meant by "Muggle".

"Right, eh…okay," she nodded, "that's exactly what Muggles are. So, the Hogwarts heads think you'd be a good addition to the committee because you're, well…a Muggle."

Dudley simply kept silent. He had spent six years dreading "that place", the place where his freak cousin went to learn how to curse people and make them grow pigtails and foot-long tongues…and now he was being asked to be a _part_ of it. Worse, his wife had turned out to be a witch, herself. And worst of all, his own _son_.

Dudley was neither overly pious, nor a lover of ironic humour, but under the circumstances, he felt pretty sure there were some higher entities up there having a good laugh at his expense.

* * *

"You are scheduled for a fitting at Madam Malkin's tomorrow at three. Your mother will accompany you to Diagon Alley, and I will meet you both after work, at five, for a visit to your grandparents."

Draco Malfoy paused for a second, as if waiting for his son to interrupt him. When Scorpius said nothing, he went on, glancing down at the boy who still clutched the Hogwarts letter with an eagerness he seldom displayed.

"_If_ I leave the office early…I might Apparate straight to Diagon Alley. So I expect you to have a clear idea of what gift you expect for your upcoming birthday."

Scorpius's eyes widened with surprise, quickly followed by excitement, and Draco bit back a smirk. Leaning against the doorframe to their living room, his wife Astoria rolled her eyes at her husband's stiff affections. At least their son didn't seem to mind.

"I want the new _Celerita_ broom! And a Sneakoscope! And then can we go to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? And—"

Draco virtually felt the corners of his mouth draw downwards at the mention of the Weasleys' shop. He preferred not to have anything to do with them or their kind. It still bothered him to end that, in the years that followed the Hogwarts Battle, all the blood traitors, half-bloods and Muggle-borns had quickly ascended to important positions within the Ministry and the Wizarding World, while he had been forced to take an office job in one of the smaller branches of Gringotts. These days, the name of Weasley commended far more respect that Malfoy, and Draco resented that with his whole being.

"Tell your mother to take you there before we meet," he said to his son, barely suppressing a groan. But, as he had learnt to do, he swallowed his wounded pride and pushed the thoughts of the Weasleys out of his head. He had a good life, far more peaceful that he deserved, and he wouldn't change it.

* * *

Ashes flew everywhere as Ron's long-awaited red-haired head finally popped up in the Potters' fireplace.

"Rosie's got her Hogwarts letter!" he announced breathlessly, coughing a little as he choked on some ash.

"Great news, Ron," Harry congratulated, "so the succession of Hogwarts Prefects is safe, then, eh?" He kneeled on the rug in front of the fireplace to make it easier for Ron to see him. "James got his letter this morning, too."

"I imagine he's out of his mind with excitement," Ron assumed.

"You can say that again. We'll need some Refurbishing Charms soon." Ginny appeared beside her husband, smiling and nodding at her brother in greeting. "Hello, Ron. How's Hermione?"

Ron grimaced painfully.

"Introducing Rosie to the many wonders of _Hogwats: A History_," he replied, with a long-suffering look to Harry, who immediately matched his grimace. Still the same old Hermione, their shared glance seemed to say.

"Tough, mate," Harry sympathized. "At least it's not the _Theory of Numerology_."

They both shuddered at the memory of the old behemoth of a book Hermione had lugged around for most of her time at Hogwarts. Though they had never admitted it, not even to each other, both Ron and Harry had always been wary of annoying her whenever she had that particular volume near. Its sheer weight might have succeeded where trolls, whomping willows, giant spiders and Death Eaters had failed.

"Oh, cut it out, you two," Ginny chided, though she was smirking herself. "I'm sure whatever's in that book will be very useful to Rosie when she gets to Hogwarts. It'll help her find her way around a lot easier!"

Harry and Ron instantly exchanged another look, both thinking exactly the same thing. They knew of an even better reading that helped one find his way around Hogwarts. Courtesy of Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

"So when are you going to Diagon Alley to get everything?" Ginny continued, oblivious to their silent communication.

"That's another thing," Ron nodded, "Hermione wanted me to see if a week from today worked for you. She's got her hands full with this new project on improving exchange programs for magical schools. She's meeting the heads from Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and Salem over the next few days."

"That's fine," Harry agreed, with a look to his wife.

"Though I'm not sure we can contain James' excitement for another week," she added with a smile. "He wants his Hogwarts things now—and that owl. At this rate, we'll have a whole owlery for ourselves," she commented, thinking of her husband's own owl, the family owl, and the potential newcomer.

Ron gave her a look.

"Don't complain. Rosie wanted to know if we could get her either a Three-Tailed Tortoise or a baby dragon." He paused for a second. "I am _not_ looking forward to her hanging around Hagrid eight months a year."


End file.
